that i give you not my hand but my heart
by she.daydreams.in.colour
Summary: Sold as wife to Legatus Niklaus Mikaelson in exchange for the command of ten thousand soldiers, Caroline Salvatore resigns herself to a political marriage where her husband sees her merely as another pawn in the game of war. But on her wedding night, she learns a valuable lesson – sometimes one word is all it takes to earn a man's respect. Klaroline Game of Thrones/Spartacus AU.
1. Chapter 1

Note: Inspired by Spartacus, which I looove, and Game of Thrones, which I honestly have never seen but am curious about thanks to Caryn (carolinemykhaleesi) and Ifi (redandprongs). I've read the season summaries and the full transcripts for the first four episodes and was drawn to Daenery's and Drogo's storyline, but I couldn't imagine Klaus as a Dothraki so I brought in the regal Romans of Spartacus. :)

-o-

**that i give you not my hand but my heart**

_Your wife was the heart that beats beneath your chest. (Claudius Glaber, Spartacus)_

* * *

The sage-roast veal sat heavily inside his stomach, sweet libation burning an acrid line as it ran down the column of his bitter throat.

All around the splendidly decorated hall he found himself seated in, towering pillars of opulent marble were draped in cloths of threaded gold and jewel tones, standing in silent herald to fountains flowing with wine and oaken tables filled to abundance with the freshest of breads and season fruits. Sumptuous smells of slow-roasted meats lingered fragrantly in the air as servants of the household brought in tray after tray of choice beef, lamb and poultry, broiled and brushed to piquant perfection, gladly indulged upon by the three hundred patrician guests gathered in festivity to exalt but one high-held name. Weddings were affairs met with lavish celebration in the noble city of Rome - and all the more so when hosted under the roof of the honoured House of Mikaelson.

It was a feast indeed, on that fateful day when sun and storm shared the same sky. Yet Damon Salvatore sat in his chair quiet, his face absent the slightest trace of joy for the union which he came to bear witness.

"The lucky bastard," he heard a finely-robed man from the next table remark in stunned captivation to the rest of his company. "Tell me, Marcel, which end of the earth did your Legatus find such a stunning wife?"

"And fittingly paid for with a price as stunning." replied the war-brawned tribune with a rich laugh. "Ten thousand Roman soldiers, armed and armoured, bought from the coin of Senator Mikael himself."

"Ten thousand Roman soldiers!"

"I kid you not, Magistrate Lockwood. The bride is Caroline of the House of Salvatore, lone daughter to Giuseppe the Mad King, thrown from his throne by Silas Shadowself the Usurper, who has seized the isle of Corsica for himself."

The Roman official paused. "…Salvatore… but Stefan Dragonlord was felled by Silas the year past, and with him perished the Salvatores' last hold on power. What remains of the family's members were exiled from Corsica, were they not? Why would Senator Mikael wish to ally himself with a family whose reign has come to pass?"

The other man, Marcel, smiled politely as he shrugged. Perhaps he knew not of the senator's true plans, or perhaps he did but was wise enough not to reveal them. Richard Lockwood, Magistrate of Rome, would never really know.

But Damon Salvatore did. Three fortnights ago Mikael Mikaelson himself came to see him at Sinuessa, a small island southeast of Sicilia, the last terrain to remain under the rule of the Salvatore name. He brought with him an offer for a bargain that Damon taxed himself to refuse.

"_An army of ten thousand soldiers." The senator declared, thin lips curling into the ghost of a smile as he brought his hands together on the table. "Ten thousand of the finest fighters of Rome, armed and armoured, awaiting only your command."_

"_And what would I do with ten thousand men?" was Damon's uninterested reply._

"_Do not think me a fool, boy. I know you raised the price of grain and produce from your city the month past, and only this week you raised the toll for ships mooring in Sinuessa's port. You can blather of your excuse that crops were destroyed and the dock damaged by storm, but I see clearly through your pretext – you want to get hold of as much coinage as you can."_

"_The old man is abreast with economic news, how impressive." _

"_And I wish I could say the same about your effort to secretly raise currency for war, but I can't."_

"_I, raising currency for war – do you realize how ridiculous you sound?"_

"_Do you realize how even more ridiculous your plan is? Scraping coin after coin, like a slave saving for freedom - I reckon it'll take fifty years at least. Think you'll still be able to hold a sword at eighty?"_

"_You don't get it, do you?" The sable-haired prince exiled from his own kingdom replied with a bitter laugh. "Sinuessa is nothing. It's the smallest, the least prosperous, the most unimportant of all my father's lands. That bastard Silas has not even bothered to go after me in this city because the git knows it will never give me enough wealth to challenge him for Corsica. Look around you. This is the best dwelling in Sinuessa, and there's barely any gold or marble in the fucking house. Is it so hard to believe that I would raise the price of goddamned corn to slap slabs of marble onto this god-awful stone floor?"_

_Mikael snorted, reclining back on his seat. "It would not be so hard, had you actually bought any marble. But as I have it on good authority that slaves and iron are the only things you have been buying plenteously…"_

_Color drained from Damon's face at the mention of 'slaves and iron'_

"_Oh, you thought that just because you bought your wares from Gaul and shipped them through the routes of Sardania, Rome would not hear of it?"_

"_How did you…"_

"_I have eyes everywhere. Fortunately for you, I don't care about your feud with Silas Shadowself. I will stay neutral, and so will the Senate… or I can take your side, if you want me to."_

"_What do you want from me," the Salvatore hissed, his firsts clenching at his sides._

_The senator sneered. "A simple, mutually beneficial agreement between two __honourable__ men. I will give you rule over ten thousand Roman soldiers, as I said – and in return, you are to hand me control of the ports of Sinuessa."_

"_What?"_

"_You need men to fight for you, and I need a port from which I can launch warships to control the routes to Carthagia. My eldest son Finn [see A/N] will lead the Roman conquest of John Gilbert's kingdom three months from the morrow, and I intend to make sure that he brings glory to the Mikaelson name." _

"_But you'll kill the city's trade -"_

"_And what would you need merchant trade for, if you already have your army? Listen to me, Damon Ravenflame, the last standing son of the House of Salvatore. You can go on with your plan – I assume you'll hand swords to slaves and make them raid smaller villages, turn more slaves out of the captured men, do it again and again until you have an army large enough to go after Silas? Yet even if you were willing to wait the fifty years it would take, you know that slaves will never make true soldiers. They'll either be too weak to fight or too strong to follow orders."_

_Damon clenched his fists even harder, his anger and anxiety corked by cold silence. He loathed to admit it, but everything Mikael said was true. His own father had said it countless times before. Arm a slave with a weapon, and he will fail you or__ he will__ turn on you._

"_On the other hand, you can take my offer, and by this hour of the day three months from now, you could attack Corsica with an army that Silas will toil to defeat. If you play your cards right, you can have the crown of Corsica on your head in a few months." The Roman senator tempted. _

_A flame of leaden hatred blazed gray in the young man's blue eyes. No, let the gods know that he didn't care about getting Corsica or the crown back, not even reclaiming the wealth that Silas seized from his family – the only thing he cared about was avenging Stefan's death. _

_Stefan, his younger brother, his dear only brother who died by Damon's side, defending the throne that once bore the Salvatore name, the duty of any honourable son who loved his father._

_As was Damon's duty now to reclaim his father's stolen crown._

"_The ports of Sinuessa… that's all it would take?" Damon slowly conceded, voice almost breaking.  
_

_The Senator tilted his head shrewdly. "Well, there is one more thing…"_

_Of course. That was how it was with the Romans, there was always one more thing._

"_As you know, my investment in your cause is not a cheap one. And though I do want badly to believe that your word is enough, I'm certain you cannot fault me for wanting additional assurance."_

"_That being?"_

"_A pact that would ensure the House of Salvatore and the House of Mikaelson are truly bound to each other__ in this agreement__."_

_Damon let out a sharp, soundless breath._

"_I want a pact of living blood."_

"_Living blood..."_

"_I heard you have a sister."_

Mikael Mikaelson asked for Caroline Salvatore.

-o-

"Like your bride?"

Legatus Niklaus Mikaelson grunted, slowly shifting his gaze away from the guests in the hall whom he had silently been observing, in favor of turning to his father, who smirked as he took a seat left of his son. The bride in discussion, Caroline - formerly of the House of Salvatore and now bearing the name Mikaelson - was currently with her mother-in-law, who was giving her introduction to the aristocratic women of Rome, the company of which she would now belong to as the wife of a Mikaelson son.

"Beautiful, isn't she." Mikael said with a thoroughly pleased expression, as though the man were applauding himself for bringing in a prize of a woman into the family.

He wasn't particularly interested in the conversation his father began, but nevertheless, Klaus nodded idly. He had to admit, Caroline of Corsica was beautiful - with her eyes of sea blue and hair of summer wheat, frame as daint as an elf of the woods - she was a sight to behold. Even more so now, wrapped in a most luxurious silk dress of ice blue, a clasp of sapphire and diamonds crowning the back of her head. The girl carried herself with a grace and dignity that commanded regard, if not respect, from any proper man or woman she was acquainted with, that even though she no longer had a kingdom, nor power, nor wealth, there was not a guest in the hall who could deny her worth as a daughter of a noble family.

And like almost all the daughters of the noblest of families in Rome, Klaus thought detachedly, Caroline Mikaelson was a whore.

A beautiful, refined, _expensive_ whore.

Twenty five years of being son to Mikael Mikaelson had taught Klaus to see things for what they really were, not for what they appeared to be. His wife was no different from the tavern wenches who were pedaled and sold to any man who cared to pay their price of a silver coin; she was merely paid more, one hundred gold bars worth of soldiers to be exact.

"Do you know why I had her married to you?"

"So you'd have something to hold over Damon Salvatore's head if for some foolish reason he goes back on his word and refuses you Sinuessa after you hand him his army." Klaus replied, not even bothering to veil both the indifference in his voice and the nonchalance in his features.

Mikael nodded. "Precisely. Which is why we must ascertain that she stays in our hold here in Rome."

"And why must you use the word 'we'?" The Legatus drawled testily. "I am leaving for Capua to quell the Thracian rebellion a week from now. How you'll keep the girl confined here is none of my concern."

The older Mikaelson fixed his sight upon his new daughter-in-law, who was politely, albeit wordlessly, smiling at the women her mother-in-law was introducing her to. He looked at her fondly for a moment, before his cobalt blue eyes narrowed into slits of serpentine cunning.

"Had she been a Forbes, I would have been more at ease; that house always pays its debts. But she is a Salvatore, descent from the lineage of the tamers of the dragons - one can never restrain a dragon, and so can you restrain its master. If Damon Ravenflame goes back on his word and Caroline decides to leave, she will find a way to leave."

"Then chain her to your bed by her two feet, for all I care."

"Listen to me, Niklaus. Your wife must stay in this house, and she must stay in this house on her own accord, if we are to keep her in Rome."

Klaus scoffed irritably – again with his father's use of the word 'we'. He couldn't care less about anything irrelevant to the rebellion in Capua at the moment, and keeping his so-called 'wife' in the Mikaelson house was the least of his concerns.

"And what would you have me do, Father? Make her fall in love with me within the next week, so she might strap herself to my bed when I tell her to await my return from Capua?"

He was surprised when the sarcastic comment earned a fit of amused laughter from the family patriarch.

"My fool of a son." Mikael said, shaking his head. "Remember these words and let them serve you well. A woman's love for a man is fickle, and you should never depend on it for anything of significance. A mother's love for her child, however… that is the only thing constant."

Klaus' brow furrowed, jaw suddenly tightening into a hardened expression of warring anger and disbelief. He knew precisely what his father was insinuating, but to ask such a thing, from a Roman warrior of title and noble birth-

"I want you to sire me a grandchild."

_A grandchild._

"Are you fucking kidding me."

"A duty of all men to their forefathers' name, to sire sons and provide heirs." The senator asserted sharply, clearly not in jest. "Conveniently for me, it also happens to be a most excellent insurance. Caroline would never leave Rome without the child, and it's much easier to detain a helpless infant than a grown woman, and one with the Dragonlord's blood at that. In the unlikely occurrence that she does abandon her child, I could go after Sinuessa as the birthright of my grandson."

The merriment of the wedding feast continued around the two men, and yet the sounds of gay laughter and eager chatter from the guests of the hall could barely fill the void of tense silence between them. On one hand, the father – cool and composed, assured that in this household, his word was the law. On the other, the son – outraged but bound by patrician conduct to comport himself, filling the air amid them with more tension than there is among an army poised for assault.

For the simple truth was, Niklaus Mikaelson had never been an obedient son, and Mikael Mikaelson had never been a compliant father.

"I am a Legatus of the Army of Rome," Klaus defied, gritting out his words as mutedly as he could as he raised his own blue eyes to level with the Senator's. "And you ask me the service of standing stud to this woman, like a goddamned boar for hire, that she may bear a child for you to take?"

"You are also my son, and for as long as my coin and the coin I secure for you through the Senate of Rome pays for your campaigns, you will do as I tell you. You've already married her on my orders, I don't suppose it's that much worse to fuck her on my orders as well." Mikael replied in all bluntness.

The legatus was seething with rage – oh, that his own father would ask him the same service that a lanista might ask of his gladiator, or a dominus of his slave, when he was a soldier of rank and bearing the name of a patrician Roman family – by god, he'd give anything to tell the old man to fuck off or else fuck the woman himself if he wanted an infant hostage so badly.

And yet… he knew in himself there was nothing that he could really say. War was an affair driven by wealth as much as it was driven by power, and even the almighty Senate of Rome paid keen attention to the wealth it allocated to warfare. What Rome would not pay for Niklaus Mikaelson's campaigns, Senator Mikael Mikaelson paid for with coin from his own pockets. The son was indebted to his father, as a gladiator to his lanista, and a slave to his dominus.

The patriarch smirked in satisfaction at his son's strained silence, knowing fully well that he would have the upper hand no matter what end of the earth Klaus took the argument to. He turned to motion at one of his servants with a wave of his hand, and Sophie Deveraux, slave of third generation born to servitude of the Mikaelson household, bowed at her master before quickly taking leave. She returned a few moments later with a silver goblet clasped in her hands.

"Drink it," Mikael instructed his son.

"This is not wine."

"It's a brew from Orlinia. Rouses a man's desire."

"Is it not enough that you ask me to fuck your whore of a collateral?" Klaus spat angrily, no longer caring if any of the guests heard him. "Do you have to insult me further by thinking that I am not man enough?"

This time, from their seats in the guest banquet, two guests had finally taken wordless notice of the tension-filled exchange between the senator and his son. Marcel Gerard, tribune to Klaus Mikaelson, reached for his own glass of wine and promptly looked away without as much as another glance. But the other man, Damon Salvatore, brother to Caroline Mikaelson, narrowed his eyes and gripped his dining knife harder.

"Choose your words carefully, Legatus, you have run my patience thin." Mikael warned, forcefully setting the goblet on the table in front of the younger man. "You think I'm not aware that every woman who's been sent to your tent as a prize of war has been banished without a second look to your tribune's waiting lap? How long has it been since you were last with a woman?"

"What I do to the women sent to me is none of your concern, whether it's sending them to my tribune or slitting their throats with a bread knife."

"And you are right, I don't care if you give them to Marcel or to any of your men or to _all _of your men for that matter." Mikael declared coldly. "I don't even care if you never get over that wretched Petrova girl and swear off women for the rest of your life. But you will sire me a grandson and you will not see a grain of sand from Capua if you do not do as I say, do you understand?"

He was too far in distance to hear what his brother-in-law and the man's senator father were in argument about; and try as he might, Damon Ravenflame could only watch in silence as Niklaus Mikaelson suddenly took hold of the wine cup laid in front of him and deliberately poured to waste its amethyst-coloured content into the bowl of fruit on the principal table. The Legatus mouthed a string of sharp words at his father, to which Mikael Mikaelson replied only with a raise of his aristocratic brow.

Anxiety gnawed at the Corsican's guilt-ripped chest. The thought that it could be something about his sister Caroline –

"It's too late to change your mind now, Damon." Beside him, his counselor and confidante, Alaric Saltzman, quietly said.

The Salvatore swallowed, closing his eyes before hanging his head low.

_For the want of ten thousand soldiers._

-o-

A woman's worth, she'd been told countless times, was measured by how much wealth she brought into her family through her marriage.

Caroline Salvatore – now Mikaelson – exhaled slowly, silently watching her reflection in the exquisitely crafted Roman mirrors she sat in front of as one of the maiden servants slowly unclasped the barrette of sapphire and diamond crowning the hind of her head. Wheat blonde hair flowed freely down her back, curling into feathery waves of flax before being soothed to a seductive smoothness by the porcelain comb her servant girl brushed her tresses with, a halo of gold framing her tired blue eyes. The wedding celebration was over, and now here she was, in her chambers in the house of her father-in-law while being prepared for her first night as wife to Niklaus Mikaelson.

She would have been lying if she said that she was fine. The truth was that she felt a muddled haze of disbelief, anxiety and helpless resignation; an agonizing daze that she could do none about save to quietly bear.

The former Princess of Corsica had always known that one day she would marry - it was just what children of royalty did, always for the opportunity of gaining wealth or consolidating power – and as any dutiful child would do, she was prepared to wed the man her father chose. Yet had she been left to decide for herself, Caroline Salvatore would have married for love.

Perhaps she read too many of the books that Damon Ravenflame bought for her in his travels, or perhaps she listened to too many of the tales that Stefan Dragonlord told her of. But Caroline believed in love - the kind that poets wrote sonnets of, the kind that men crossed oceans for, the kind that the gods made stars in the heavens to last until eternity for. She'd read of Hector and Andromache, their love pure and selfless; of Odysseus and Penelope, who remained each other's despite the hindrance of time and distance; of Ceyx and Alcyone, whose love transcended even death. And that love was what she sought and dreamt of having in her life.

How easy it was to wish for love back then. She bore the Salvatore name and with it a claim to both wealth and power. Numerous men came to Corsica seeking her hand in marriage if not for her beauty then for the opportunity to ally themselves with her father, and many times when receiving a mighty warrior, a wealthy merchant or a ruling king or prince as guest in the royal palace, Caroline would wonder if the man in front of her was the man she would come to love with all of her heart. She had two brothers who looked after her and fiercely protected her, ascertaining that the men whose intent to marry her rose from selfish cause would never even see a glimpse of her.

But then Silas Shadowself betrayed Giuseppe, killing the Mad King to seize the crown of Corsica for himself. And in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Stefan fell trying to defend their father's throne. Silas installed himself King of Corsica, and Damon and Caroline were exiled from the land they once called home.

The princess who was once worth everything was now worth nothing.

And thus when a month ago when Mikael Mikaelson offered ten thousand soldiers for her hand, she took it without second thought.

Now here she was, married to a man she knew nothing of much less felt anything for, about to give herself to him for the taking. Caroline was Niklaus Mikaelson's property now; his word was her law, and his will was her directive.

A knock on the large alder doors held off the lone tear that threatened to roll down the Salvatore's pale cheek. Caroline turned to the chamber's entrance and immediately she was filled with a faint sense of relief at the unexpected sight of her older brother.

"Can you leave us for a moment?" she asked the maidservant, who bowed in submission and quickly took leave from the room.

Damon Salvatore entered the chamber with heavy steps, the beating thing in his chest weighing even heavier. His sister turned to face him, her lips curved into an innocent smile, yet she could not hide the sorrow that Damon could see all too clearly in her glazed blue eyes.

It sickened him to no end, the fact that she was here because of him – and even with ten thousand soldiers now under his command, he was not certain that he could ever forgive himself for allowing this to happen to his only sister.

"I have to leave soon…" he told her quietly. He lifted a calloused hand to tuck stray strands of hair at the back of her ear, and Caroline tilted her head meekly to lean into her brother's touch.

"How long will you stay here in Rome?"

"Two more days. After that I have to return to Sinuessa…"

Caroline nodded, smiling at her brother again. Damon was the only thing she had now… she had to be strong for both of them.

"Caroline…" The raven-haired prince looked at his sister, the silvered hue of pain set deep in his obsidian eyes. "There's still time. This marriage means nothing. I can go to Mikael right this moment, return the army he gave –"

"Don't say that. What's done is done, and all that matters now is that you have your army. You have to fight for Corsica. For Father. For Stefan." Caroline reminded him.

"At the cost of losing my own sister –"

"You will never lose me, Damon. You and I are family, they can never take that away."

"Will they never? You're lost to the Salvatore name now, Caroline Mikaelson. And tonight when your husband takes you – Jupiter's own hand strike me to my death! I should have never let you hand yourself over to Mikael -"

Caroline shook her head firmly, a wordless plea for her brother to say no more.

When Mikael told him that he would have his sister marry one of Mikael's sons as a pact of living blood, Damon Salvatore replied that the Senator could take his army and offer it to someone else with a port to trade, he was not selling Caroline for all the soldiers in the face of the earth. What he did not know was that his sister had been listening to the conversation from the chamber's doorway, and it took no more than a moment of hesitation before she stepped out and told the Senator that she would marry his son and give him control of Sinuessa - for ten thousand soldiers, as he promised, and his word for five thousand more if they were ever needed. The bargain was agreed upon and no protest from Damon could rescind it.

"You have always been a good brother to me." Caroline said, gently taking Damon's hands and holding them in her own. "Do you remember that day, after Father died, when Silas advanced to spare our lives and let us remain in Corsica provided you swore allegiance to him and allowed him to take me in marriage if only to legitimize his taking of Father's throne? You and Stefan chose to fight, and you said he'd never touch me as long as you were alive. Or that day, after Stefan fell, when we were driven from home and had not a single coin in our hands? You sold your dagger, the one Mother gave you, and the first thing you bought was a robe of fur for me to wear because the journey to Sinuessa was one of wind and snow, and you did not want me to be cold. Or that day, three months after we arrived to Sinuessa, when coin from the first harvest of summer fell into your hands? You bought me a quilt of eiderdown, when you yourself had none and slept on a mattress of straw."

"Because I am your brother. It's my duty to take care of you." Damon told her simply, his lips curling into a bittersweet smile.

"And you have done so all your life." Caroline replied. "Now it's my turn. Let me be a good sister to you."

"Not like this, Caroline -"

"You must understand, Damon. This marriage – it's a small price to pay for what I can give you. Don't worry about me. Mikael will not do anything so long as we keep our end of the bargain."

"You don't know that."

"He has a name to protect. He will not mar the Mikaelson repute with words of bad faith."

"And your husband?"

"I've met him once... only briefly, before we were wed. He was forced into this as much as I was, and he holds no interest in me whatsoever."

"And yet here you are, bathed and brushed, being prepared for his taking."

Caroline tried to laugh, but the sound came out wrought and broken. "I will sleep with ten thousand soldiers and their horses if that's what it takes to give you an army. Let us count ourselves lucky that I have to sleep with only one man."

"Is this all a joke to you?" Damon answered indignantly, and his sister could almost taste the anguish in his voice. "Caroline, you wed a man you feel no love for and who feels no love for you. Because he is your lord he will be free to take as many women to his bed as he pleases and you won't have the right to say anything. But you? One day when you meet the man you will truly love, you will kill yourself with the grief of knowing that you can never be with him because another man has taken you -"

_Knock knock._

The doors of the chamber slowly creaked open, and a servant of the household entered quietly, interrupting the word between brother and sister. Damon Salvatore would have told her to leave them be until he left the room on his own accord, but Sophie Deveraux paid him not a single glance and spoke addressing only her mistress.

"Lady Caroline… Lord Niklaus wishes to see you now."

The blonde swallowed again. With a deep, soundless breath of air, she slowly turned her head to look at the lithe blue garment laid on her bed, a beautiful robe of gossamer and silk which she was supposed to wear tonight as she presented herself to her husband. The delicate fabric was almost translucent, revealing much more than what it hid; it was meant to entice, meant to seduce.

Her heart raced and her mind was slowly filled with a dizzying sense of lightheadedness. She knew what was expected of her tonight, and she knew that she had to do it. She didn't want to – but she had to.

_This is your life now_, she told herself, summoning every ounce of courage left in her limp body. When Niklaus Mikaelson called, she would have to come. What he asked of her, she would have to give. And anything he told her, she would have to follow.

She willed herself to hide all the fears she felt as she faced her brother once again. Damon Ravenflame never took his eyes off his sister, and in Caroline's mind she could hear him say all the things he wanted to but could not tell her now.

_Say the word, Caroline. Say the word and I'll take you home_.

"If you will excuse me, brother… my husband calls."

-o-

A/N:

1. If you want to review but don't know what to say, please just copy and paste the following statement:

**Dear Erica,**

**You finally post something after four freakin' months and you don't even post the whole thing? How dare you! I demand to know what happens during their wedding night! Is this fic finally the first story where you let Klaus get off?**

**Love,**

**(Insert your name here)**

2. Teehee so yeah there is a part 2 to this fic which I will post on Wednesday, that beautiful Klaroline day after TO Tuesday as we know on tumblr. (Crossing my fingers for lots of Klaroline mentions this week. It's time Klaus remembers the girl he promised 'however long it takes' to, duh!)

Anyway, so what 'one word' do you think earns Caroline Klaus' respect? If your answer is correct you get a free gif. For real. :)

3. I know that in GoT Viserys was abusive to Daenerys, and Damon was horribly abusive to Caroline in canon so the bad brother is a perfect role for him, but I couldn't write abusive Daroline because they're my favourite fanon brotp. :( I hope you guys don't mind.

4. As always I am **erica-dreams-in-colour** at tumblr for gifs, rants and other attempts at social relevance. My multi-chapter fics are posted here in FFN in my **she. dreams. in. colour** account, feel free to check them out, links are in my profile page. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Note: It's 11.30pm-ish… in California. :)) So this fic is a bit late for the Wednesday update that I promised but I hope you guys still enjoy it.

-o-

**that i give you not my hand but my heart**

_Your wife was the heart that beats beneath your chest. (Claudius Glaber, Spartacus)_

* * *

She was already in the room when he entered the chambers.

She was seated on the bed, hands clutched loosely in her lap, her head tilted downward in a blank gaze at the room's cold marble floors. She must have been deep in thought because she appeared not to have heard his arrival, and even as he stood a mere few feet away from her she still did not seem to have noticed him at all.

For a few moments, he watched her quietly from his distance. He could not have asked for a more beautiful wife, the Legatus admitted to himself; in that delicate peignoir of pale blue, porcelain skin aglow with the soft radiance spilt into the chamber by the waxing moon smiling at them from her throne in the heavens, with her hair flowing like a golden river down her back, Caroline Mikaelson was Venus in the flesh. That any man who beheld this sight would desire her was no surprise.

But Klaus, Legatus Mikaelson - he was not merely 'any man'.

He was someone who scribed to memory his past mistakes so he could never commit them again. And once, not too long ago, he made the mistake of falling in love with a woman almost as, if not more, beautiful as his wife.

"Caroline."

He saw her flinch the moment she heard him speak, like a burning candlewick flickering upon the breath of the autumn draft. Her name rolled coldly off of his tongue, distant and impersonal, the way a liege might address his vassal. And perhaps, that was the best way to describe what the marriage meant to Klaus; he married his wife to fulfill the pact of living blood his father wrote, but he did not care for her. He would take her tonight to sire the child his father needed, but he did not want her.

The blonde's hands curled tighter in her lap. A ghostly shiver ran down her spine as she slowly turned her head to look at her husband, the man whose bed she would be warming tonight and every other night he pleased.

She met him once before, and she knew that he wanted no part of this marriage as well. He was a warrior whose commitment was solely to battle, a son who disdained the fact that he had to obey his father – she knew that he couldn't care less about her even if he tried.

Perhaps… if she lied to him with the excuse of being worn-out from the celebration… if she asked of him not to do this tonight… would her husband understand and allow her to remain chaste? And when Rome's war with Carthage and Damon's with Silas were both over, if she asked him for her freedom so she can be with the man she would come to truly love… would he grant her the permission to be Caroline Salvatore again?

She gazed at him with nervous hesitance, but Klaus' frigid blue orbs flitted back at her unaffectedly.

"Take your robe off."

Caroline closed her eyes, fighting the urge to spill the tears that suddenly blurred her vision.

There was the answer to her questions.

She lifted a trembling hand to undo the loose knot securing the flimsy garment that barely clothed her body. Her heart began to race, quivering fingers fumbling clumsily against the twined fabric that she struggled to untie, as if an indication of the fear she could not quell inside. Even thought she kept telling herself that this was for Father, for Stefan, for Damon - the broken mantra she recited over and over in her head was not enough to make her feel any trace of peace about giving herself to a man she felt nothing for.

This was the price she said she was prepared to pay for the sake of ten thousand soldiers, and now she had to stand by her name-sworn oath… _but was this truly all that she was worth as a woman? A commodity to purchase, a virgin to claim, an indemnity for a pact?_

And at the same time the peignoir finally slid gracefully down her body, forming a puddle of light blue on the floor around her feet, a lone tear slid down the former princess of Corsica's right eye. She was worth one hundred gold bars worth of soldiers, but standing bare inside that room, offering herself for the pleasure of the husband she felt nothing for - she had never felt more worthless her entire life.

"Lie on the bed."

She took a deep, labored breath and willed herself to stop crying as she obeyed her lord and slipped into the canopied bed, shuddering faintly as the soft cotton sheets ran smoothly against her bare skin. She heard the sound of metal bracers being taken off and rested on the cushioned chase, followed by the faint rustle of a tunic being unfastened and discarded roughly.

Caroline dared not look at her husband, not even as she heard his footsteps near, not even as she felt the weight of his unclothed form dip in their bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, breathing hushed and shallow; she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, just waiting for this man to take her, waiting for it to all be over.

Klaus' watchful eyes roamed all over the prone body laid out on the bed upon twisted sheets, like an innocent virgin offered to appease the fiery god Ares. She was beautiful before, stunning in her wedding chiton; and she was beautiful even now, utterly ravishing, naked in front of him.

Her blue eyes had the glazed look of defeated resignation, parched pink lips parted ever so slightly in evident anxiety. The soft curve of her milk-splashed breasts heaved with each shallow breath she took, rosy peaks pouting at the cold nighttime air, just begging to be laved and lapped. Klaus slowly closed his eyes, letting himself be tempted.

Oh, he'd run the span of his hand down her silken back before drawing those sweet nubs into his mouth, swirling and rolling them leisurely in his tongue, teasing them with his teeth and the gentlest of bites and nips until Caroline Mikaelson choked in the frenzied haze of pleasure. The warrior inhaled sharply as he allowed the fever-pitch heat of lust surge throughout his own sinewy frame, his hand reaching below to grasp his madly hardening cock.

He began to stroke himself, mind filled with thoughts of how he would take this woman, this beautiful woman who now bears his name. He'd sink into her in one hard thrust, split her apart like a sweet ripe summer peach. Or perhaps he could take her gently… grind his hips against hers maddeningly slow, surge into her with a cadent rhythm of tenderness that'll have her wanting him harder and deeper than that. He'd drill himself into her until she wrapped her long legs tight around him, until her supple body thrashed in the pleasure of meeting his every thrust, until the night resounded with her screams of his name.

He'd make her want this, godfuckingdammit. By the end of the night she'd be begging him to fuck her until kingdom come.

Caroline Mikaelson would know who owned her, and she would never forget who she belonged to.

The Legatus groaned low, beads of cold sweat forming on his furrowed brow. He needed to bring himself to the brink – and yet he still deigned to even touch his wife until he absolutely had to.

Yes, he would take her tonight if only to sire the grandchild his father demanded, but he did not care for pleasuring her, not even for pleasuring himself. He'd never forget that fucking was a job, a task, nothing more, nothing else. He would see it done, leave for Capua soonest as possible and let the gods decide when he would ever see his whore of a wife again.

To do that he had to let the heat of desire take over his rippling body, let the rush of lust take over his wary mind. That rush, which he hadn't allowed himself to feel since that day two years ago when his father 'bought' the first woman whom Klaus asked to be his wife.

Her name was Tatia Petrova. She was the most beautiful girl in her village in the province of Thrace, and Klaus had loved her the first time he laid his eyes on her. She was a peasant without name or wealth or political influence, and she would never have made a suitable wife for a Roman warlord, but Niklaus did not care. He loved her and she said she loved him. She gave herself to him, and he to her, and one night under the starry Thracian sky he asked her to marry him. She said yes.

But when Klaus took Tatia home to Rome, where he intended to wed her in the magistrate's court, Mikael called the woman a whore and in front of his son told her that he would pay her a silver coin for every guard in the household that she could please. Klaus roared at his father that Tatia didn't care for money, but by the end of the day coins were spilling from the Petrova's cupped hands.

Betrayed by the one woman he loved above anything else in the world, he swore to himself that he would never again fall for a woman who could be bought. And Caroline Mikaelson, no matter how beautiful she was, sold herself for ten thousand soldiers.

He pumped himself harder, almost cursing at his wife when he saw her squeeze her eyes shut. Oh the goddammned slut -

"Stay still," Klaus growled as she fidgeted, quickly shifting his body and lowering himself into her, the head of his pulsing cock poised impatiently over her dry entrance. He could feel that the boiling heat in the pit of his stomach, that feverish sensation that told him he was close to release.

Caroline swallowed frantically, trembling lips parting wider - she had never felt more afraid her entire life. She couldn't even think with reason; her mind was filled with the chaos of desperate thoughts and confusing emotions.

She had to do this – but she didn't want this – she didn't love him – but Corsica – and this heat, oh this choking heat that she felt that she couldn't even understand – she felt sick, lightheaded – she could hear her heartbeat drumming in her ears -

Klaus gripped her quivering form forcefully by the shoulder, pressing her to lay still. "Don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be." He warned for the last time.

He took a deep breath, aligning his throbbing length to her center and slowly pushing himself in. He hissed in tainted pleasure as the tip of his cock nestled into the entrance of her folds, and he began to grind his hips to finally drive it all in when -

"No…"

He froze.

It was as if time stood still. He slowly raised his head to look into her eyes, blue gray against hazed topaz - faint and tear-stained, yet clearly reflecting that rare form of valiance, found only in having the courage to fight even when one felt teeming fear.

"…w-what…" he found himself in stammer.

She shook her head weakly, her eyes never leaving his. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face.

"You already have my home," She told him, her voice small and broken, barely a whisper; and yet it resonated deafeningly with the silent strength of resilience. Her eyes were blurry, still glazed, but they showed him an inexplicable clarity that suddenly made his heart skip a muted beat.

"You already have my name… you already have my word..."

The room was all quiet. Moonlight poured in through the open glass windows, forming speechless dappled shadows upon the silent marble floors. Outside, even Diana seemed to smile at the two mortals whose fates were entwined by the gods, though they did not yet know it.

Caroline _Salvatore_'s voice broke the silence.

"…don't take what you don't need from me…"

It was all that she could say before she felt her eyes close and darkness swallowed what remained of her mind.

-o-

She awoke to the sound of birds singing their morning songs and the sight of gentle sunlight filtering throughout the room.

She slowly rubbed her misted eyes as she began to sit up on the bed, sluggishly running a hand down her face. She looked around her; she was alone in bed, no one else with her in the spacious room… and glancing down she noticed that the peignoir she took off last night sheathed her tired body once again.

_What happened_… Caroline thought, trying to recollect her memories of the past night. All she could remember was the suffocating feeling of almost choking in her fears as she looked at her husband, before her vision crumbled into a pit of tar black… did she faint? What happened after -

The low creak of the metal latch against wood and stone made her turn to the doorway.

Niklaus Mikaelson quietly entered the chamber, already clad in the traditional second day robes of green and silver. The warrior's face remained bereft of emotion, the way he had always been around his wife… but there was something in his eyes, in the way he looked at her as he made his way to her side by the bed. Caroline could not put in into words but there was something different about him.

"M-my lord," she said faintly. She lowered her eyes and drew the white cotton sheets closer to her body, shielding her barely clothed form from his sight.

She was surprised when she saw him sit by the edge of the bed, almost next to her.

"My lady."

_Did he just call her..._

"Father will expect us to be present in the morning meal," he told her, both his gaze and his voice softer than she ever saw or heard from him before. He never smiled, but she could feel the warmth of a newfound kindness in his eyes as he slowly looked into her own blue orbs, lifted her gaze from her lap into his own eyes. "I've had a bath prepared for you. Davina will see to anything else you might need, I'll come for you here in an hour so we can head for the dining chambers."

She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Dare she ask him what happened the past night, or why he was extending her the favour of kindness now?

Klaus let out a silent breath before pursing his lips in an almost sheepish manner. "And though I regret that I even have to tell you these words… you must understand why I must ask that you act as though our marriage was consummated last night."

Caroline's eyes widened. "I-I…"

_He did not take her last night._

"You know the reason why my father had you married to me, don't you?"

"… to hold my brother bound to him…"

"And as long as he needs your brother's word, he needs you bound to him through this house." The Legatus said. "His orders were for this marriage to be consummated. He wants you to bear him a grandchild, so you might stay here in Rome for as long as he needs the ports of Sinuessa."

The blonde tilted her head in confusion. "You did not…"

"I did not." Klaus admitted. "But he must think that I did, for your sake and for mine. And in light of what we speak of, I'm afraid I have no choice but to make this decision. You are coming with me to Capua."

"Capua?"

"If I leave in the next week and you remain here in Rome, my father will find out that you are not with child. And trust me, if that happens he will ascertain you will bear the grandchild he requires, be it by my own brother or any other willing man with the last name 'Mikaelson'."

Caroline bit her lip, uncertain. Capua was a small city in the province of Campagnia, southeast of Rome; she'd been there once, a few years before Silas' rebellion, and though she remembered the city to be peacefully beautiful she heard that its borders to the north were now besieged by a rebellion led by the escaped Thracian gladiators. The heart of Capua itself should be fairly safe, yet…

"Why are you doing this?" she suddenly asked, speaking before she could even think about what she would say and if she should truly say it.

"And by 'this' you mean?"

"Disobeying your father, keeping me safe from him…"

Niklaus Mikaelson closed his eyes. Why, indeed, was he doing this.

"Because I married a lady, not a whore. As her husband, I will protect her. As a man, I will respect her."

He slowly rose from his seat, standing still for a moment as he beheld the blue beauty of the tranquil Thyrennian Sea from the chamber's open windows. He turned back to his wife to afford her a final nod of courtesy before the warrior began to walk away and out of the room, his chest finally devoid of the weight Tatia's memories had burdened him with for the first time in the last three years.

One day when all of this was over, he knew that the woman he married would ask him for her freedom, and when that time came he would give her his consent to allow her to leave and return to her people, bearing only her father's name. And she would be Caroline Salvatore again.

But for now, while she was Caroline, Lady Mikaelson, he would see to it that she was treated the way Legatus Niklaus Mikaelson's wife was to be treated. Not as a collateral to secure a pact, nor as a womb whose sole purpose was to bear a child - but as a woman who was worth more than a hundred bars of gold, worth more than ten thousand soldiers.

He would see to it that she was treated as a woman deserving of respect.

"Klaus?"

He paused, and an inexplicable warmth spread in his chests at the sound of her voice calling him by his name.

He turned around to look back at her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him with the softness of the morning sun.

And maybe today was not the time fated for it to happen… but one day, the gods above knew, Caroline Mikaelson would smile at her husband, and Niklaus Mikaelson would smile back.

-o-

She stood in front of the great wooden gates of her father-in-law's manor a week onward, two servant girls by her side and three other soldiers carrying luggage and accoutrements for the fortnight journey to Capua.

Mikael Mikaelson was enraged when first his son told him that he was going to take his wife with him to Campaignia, but Klaus would not relent to threats of dispatronage and even disinheritance. He would renounce his Roman birth and go to Capua as a wayfaring horseman if he had to, he told his father; but Caroline Mikaelson was bearing his son and he would not be satisfied with anyone else looking after his heir but himself. Roman law averred that the husband held power over his wife, and so long as he lived Klaus was the only person whose will was to be obeyed when it came to Caroline Mikaelson unless Mikael could move the Senate to rescript the law before they left.

And so there they were, preparing to leave for Capua, the Senator continuing to muttering words of disdain about the fact that he was forced to purchase the services of a hundred more soldiers if only to ascertain that his daughter-in-law remained in Capua under the safekeeping of her husband.

"Mark my words, boy. I will not forget this." Mikael warned, glaring coldly at his son as Klaus secured the reigns of his horse in front of the cavalcade.

"You wouldn't be my father if you did." Klaus simply replied, letting the ghost of a smile form upon his lips. For all of his diabolical schemes, Mikael Mikaelson was a man whose utmost objective was to bring honor to his family's house, regardless what road he had to take – or how many roads he had to pave or make himself – to get there. So long as Finn won Carthagia and Klaus quelled the rebellion of Thrace, everything would be fine.

He stood back up just in time to see Marcel making his way towards them, his hand leading the reigns of a beautiful white horse with deep brown eyes.

"Legatus," Marcel hailed. The tribune acknowledged his superior's wife with a curt bow before handing the reigns of the horse to Klaus.

Caroline watched as her husband stroked the elegant equine's neck gently, admiring the powerful yet grace-filled animal much like the first time she saw one when she was a little child whose hand had to be held by her brothers as she walked. She could tell that Klaus had a way with the animals, something she had always wanted but was unable to learn… what was it that Stefan always said? You can trust always trust a man who has earned the trust of a horse.

Klaus turned to his wife, who observed the mare with evident wonder in her eyes.

"Her name is Briseis."

He bought her a few days ago, knowing that Caroline, now that she was going with him to Capua, needed a horse to ride; one of calm temperament, unlike the guarded stallions he and his solders rode to war. When he found the mare he bought her immediately, learning only later that by fate or by chance, the name that the horse's breeder chose for her was Briseis – while Klaus' own warhorse was named Achilles.

"She's beautiful," Caroline replied in all honesty.

"Do you know how to ride?"

The blonde's lips curled into a faint grin, remembering all those times she asked Damon and Stefan to teach her horseback, only to be met with a teasing answer.

"The Salvatores tamed dragons, my lord, not horses."

He almost laughed at himself at her answer. Of course.

"Then you will learn how to do so today."

He reached out to her with an open hand, meaning to help her up her new mount. It did not escape his notice how she looked at his palm for a few moments before gazing up at his waiting blue orbs.

And finally, Caroline Mikaelson gave him her hand.

-o-

A/N:

1. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter of That I Give You Not My Hand But My Heart! :) After I wrote this story I really didn't know what to think of it, and the positive feedback is very heart-warming. I love you guys and I owe you a reply this weekend. :)

2. I have decided that this is gonna be a three-shot, but it will take more than three days for the last part (because I am prioritizing the update for **Only Red Flames**). The last chapter will be how Caroline gives Klaus her heart… and how Mikael finally gets the grandkid he wants. (You guys know what that means, wink!)

3. So our magic word is 'No'… which I read is what Drogo said to Dany when she tried to talk him out of taking her after their wedding. All you lovely readers who guessed it right, send me a message here on FFN or on tumblr about what you want your gif to be. :)

4. As always I am **erica-dreams-in-colour** at tumblr for gifs, rants and other attempts at social relevance. My multi-chapter fics are posted here in FFN in my **she. dreams. in. colour** account, feel free to check them out, links are in my profile page. :)


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